


Until We Meet Again

by OceannanotOceania



Series: Reunion [1]
Category: Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 19:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceannanotOceania/pseuds/OceannanotOceania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Until we meet again, I shall remain </i>
  <br/>
  <i>Your faithful servant, </i>
  <br/>
  <i> Merlin<i></i></i>
</p><p> </p><p>While waiting for Arthur to return, Merlin travels the world, writing letters to Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until We Meet Again

Dear Arthur,

About a year after your death, Gaius died. There was no poison found, no stab wounds, no indicators of magic, he just died. Gaius _did_ always talk about how he was an old man, and that there was no point in saving him because every day could be his last, but I never thought that there would be a day where I had to live without him. I guess I sort of thought the same thing about you.

Gwen took over after you died. She’s a great queen, and she upholds your morals to the best of her abilities. It’s amusing, though. Despite many of the advisors telling her that she needs to get married, she refuses. They tend to ask her why she’s so adamant about getting married, and it’s always the same answer: her heart belongs to you and you alone.

Camelot doesn’t have as many problems with assassins as it used to when you were alive. I guess it’s just because you’re dead, so people don’t seem to see the point. We don’t have many problems with the Druids (it helps that Gwen makes sure that there are no more raids led against Druid camps), and save for the occasional rogue sorcerer, there aren’t that many people of the Old Religion that come to Camelot anymore. And, if someone does come, the soldiers can handle it pretty easily, especially with the amount of experience Leon and Percival have.

With all of that in mind, I have decided to leave Camelot. Of course, it wasn’t my idea. After your death, I served as Gwen’s manservant (she doesn’t work me nearly as hard as you used to), along with continuing to be Gaius’ assistant. A few weeks after Gaius’ death, Gwen began to notice that I was a lot more sombre of a person than I used to be. She said it might do me some good to leave, seeing as how this place holds too many memories, and that I could come back when my mind is in a better place. She assured me that she could find a replacement physician and a servant.

So, I am leaving Camelot. In all honesty, I’m not entirely sure where I’ll be heading. I might go East. I’ve heard a few stories about some of the empires over there. From there, I’m not sure what I’ll do. Maybe I’ll see if I can travel the world, try new things. Anything I can do to pass the time until you rise again. I’m not sure how often I’ll write these letters, I guess I’ll write whenever something crosses my mind that makes me think of you. I guess it doesn’t matter, seeing as how you’ll never actually read these. Regardless, until we meet again, I remain

 

Your faithful servant,

Merlin

 

\---

Dear Arthur,

The year is about 1012, and I’m currently in a small village called Shanghai. I imagine that what I am about to tell you will be viewed as more exciting to me than to you, but I am going to tell you nonetheless: I have found a dragon. Granted, it looked much different than the few dragons seen in Camelot, but it was definitely a dragon. It was fairly large, about twice the length of the Great Dragon, but around the same height, and had blue-green scales. It also looked much more serpentine than the dragons seen in Camelot, and had small, relatively stubby legs.

I found it a few days after arriving in Shanghai. There was a crop of woods that had yet to be inhabited along the river, and I went there to gather some firewood. While I was searching, I came across a cave. I raised an eyebrow, about to simply continue on my quest for firewood, when I felt a subtle force pulling me toward the cave. I placed what little I gathered at the entrance, save for one piece, which I made into a torch. Hesitantly, I walked into the cave.

For a few minutes, I walked in silence. The only sounds that surrounded me were the clack of my feet against the stone, and the occasional drip of water. Suddenly, I came across the dragon, which appeared to be sleeping, its eyes opening soon after I waved the torch to get a better view of it, golden-blue eyes reflecting the light of the torch. The dragon rose onto its feet, and I began to back away, foot kicking a stone. The dragon seemed to smirk, saying something I couldn’t comprehend. My mouth was slightly open, unsure of what to say. The dragon tilted its head, making a noise reminiscent of a tut, before it spoke.

“I do not often get visitors.”

“Oh.” I paused. “I guess I’ll be on my way.”

“No, it is fine. Please, stay, if only for a few minutes.”

“A-Alright.”

The dragon looked me over, its gaze seeming to pierce my soul. “You are not from here.”

“No, I am not.”

“What is your name, dear traveler?”

“Merlin.”

“Merlin?” The dragon tilted its head, an expression of recognition coming upon its face. “Oh, Merlin. The great warlock. You are very far from home, aren’t you, dear warlock?”

“Yes, I began my travels a few years after the loss of King Arthur.”

“Ah, that would explain why I do not feel the presence of the King.” The dragon replied. “My condolences.”

“It was many years ago, now,” I replied. “His loss still pains me, but I imagine this pain will dull over time.” I paused. “At least, I hope it will.”

The dragon nodded. “I recall the dragon Kilgharrah telling of how the Once and Future King would rise once the world needed him most.”

“You know the Great Dragon?”

“Know is perhaps a strong word,” The dragon said. “I have spoken with him only one time in my life. The Dragons of the East, my kind, and the Dragons of the West, do not meet on a regular basis. Unlike the Dragons of the West, who possess control over fire, the Dragons of the East have control of the water. There are creatures who possess control over fire, known as the fenghuang, and the presence of too many Dragons of the West can cause an imbalance in the ideals of yin-yang.”

“Yin-yang?”

The dragon smirked. “Darkness and light.” The dragon placed a talon on the cave floor, beginning to carve a symbol into the floor. “The moon and the sun. Fire and water. Life and death.” The dragon put back its foot, nodding towards the symbol on the floor. I waved the torch over it, and saw a circle with a wavy line in the middle, two smaller circles on opposite sides. “Seemingly opposing forces, that in reality work together to create a form of balance in the universe. One cannot exist without the other.”

I nodded. “So, basically the balance found within the world?”

“In short, yes.”

“Ah.” I paused. “This has been an interesting meeting, but I believe I should be on my way.”

“I understand.” The dragon gazed at me. “Tell me, how long do you plan on staying in this village?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

“Unless you decide to leave sometime tonight, pass by tomorrow. While you are a great warlock, the most powerful the world has seen, I believe I can show you a few things before you are on your way.”

“That sounds interesting.” I replied. “I will keep it in mind.”

“Good to hear.” The dragon replied. “Goodbye for now, Merlin.”

I nodded, turning and walking out of the cave. I dropped the torch, stomping on it to put out the fire, before grabbing the firewood I had gathered earlier.

I have visited the dragon everyday for about the past two weeks. He has taught me a few things in regard to magic (I hope you aren’t too disappointed in the fact that I am practising magic), showing me a few things about manipulating the water, along with explaining how the concept of yin-yang can help supplement my magic. I even got to meet a few of the fenghuang, which were basically extremely elegant birds. While you would not necessarily appreciate the magic aspect, I think that you would like it here.

Unfortunately, while I would like to stay with the dragon, I believe it will be best for me to leave, especially since the dragon says he has nothing else to teach me. In all honesty, I’m not too sure where I’ll head from here. Perhaps I’ll just pick a direction, and go from there. Anyways, until we meet again, I shall remain

 

Your faithful servant,

Merlin

 

\---

Dear Arthur,

The year is about 1136, and I’m in Monmouth at the moment. I know I have told you that I wanted to continue travelling East, but a few years ago, I ached to see Camelot’s familiar grounds once more. Finally, I came back to Camelot, only to be somewhat disappointed by what I found in its place. The castle does not exist anymore, instead there are many villages. I even asked a few people if they knew about Camelot, and the only answers I received were the raising of eyebrows, or a simple ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ I was able to find the Lake, though. I stayed only for a few hours, mostly looking out at the Lake, occasionally trying to talk to you. Upon reflection, I likely admitted to more things than I would admit to you if you were alive, so, I hope you didn’t hear me talking.

Soon after realizing that Camelot was no more, I started to travel away from there, no particular place in mind. I ended up in Monmouth, where I met this man, Geoffrey of Monmouth. He is in the middle of writing a history about the major Kings of Britain, and so I decided to tell him about you. I hope you don’t mind, I portrayed you in the best light I could, so I didn’t tell him about how much of a massive prat you were to me. I also told him about how you would rise up again when the world needed you again. Geoffrey thought it would sound better if I specified the time, so I made up that you would rise again after a thousand years. I hope it won’t take that long for you to return, though. Not that I wouldn’t wait that long. I would wait until this world came to its end to see you once more, to see you reign as the great king you were always meant to be. Until we meet again, I shall remain

 

Your faithful servant,

Merlin

 

\---

Dear Arthur,

The year is 1692, and I am currently in Salem, Massachusetts. A few years ago, I ended up boarding a ship bound for Massachusetts, deciding that I might as well go since I had yet to set foot on the recently discovered area. Well, the discovery of the area seems recent to me, but in reality it happened at least a few centuries ago. Time does seem to blur once you have lived as long as I have. Perhaps if I were able to have a companion, time would not blur as much as it does. However, unless I found someone who lived as long as I am able to, I would have to deal with the inevitable loss of that person, which I am still unsure if I am able to handle. I am not sure if you ever knew, but your loss has had the greatest impact on my life. You are almost always on my mind, and I cannot help feeling a mixture of joy and nervousness for when I may see you once more.

Right. Sorry, that is not the reason I have written this letter. As of a few months ago, the people here have been accusing women left and right for being witches, and trying to execute them. In reality, there are few people living here that have any amount of magic, and almost every person who is accused of being a witch has no magic, and likely has never seen magic in their whole lifetime. I have helped the few people who do have magic escape from the town, hopefully you won’t think too poorly of me for doing that. If it makes you feel better, these people never used their magic for ill intentions, they wanted to live a normal, domestic life, they just happened to have abilities that others do not. As for those without magic being accused of being witches, I try to help them as well. However, I am not able to save everyone.

I am torn between leaving this place, and staying in the hopes that I will be able to save a few more lives. I hate it here, though, and the atmosphere is reminiscent of how I imagined Camelot was during the Great Purge. These two events are even similar in the amount of innocent people that are being accused. Despite this hatred I hold, I will likely stay for a few more months to see if this madness will stop, and I will avoid using my magic. However, if these unjustified killings are to continue, I know that I will need to intervene. Ideally, it will not come to that. Anyways, until we meet again, I remain

 

Your faithful servant,

Merlin

 

\---

Dear Arthur,

The year is 1850, and I have been in Delhi for the past five years. In case you are wondering why I did not write closer to arriving in this city, it is for this reason: I found someone. At least, for a while. Her name was Aryana. God, she was beautiful. She had waist-length blonde hair, always tied back, and her eyes were so much like yours. She had the same rowdy, but kind personality that you had.

It’s kind of funny how I ran into her. It was a particularly hot day, and I was out at a stall grabbing some fruit, and I nearly pushed her over. Immediately, I turned to her, making sure she hadn’t fallen to the ground, and saw that she was still standing, although I could tell something was off about her. She was sweating, and it seemed like she was slightly disoriented, like she might fall onto the ground at any time. So, I hastily paid for the few pieces of fruit I had picked, wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and walked back to my small home. I placed her on a couch, walked outside with a bucket, and got some water from the well. I walked back inside, grabbed a rag and a cup, and went back over to where she lay. I soaked the rag in the bucket, and begun patting her forehead with it.

“I-I’m fine,” She stuttered.

“You are not 'fine'," I replied, continuing to pat her forehead with the rag as I filled the cup with water. “You’re dehydrated, you need water.”

“No, no, I’m _fine_.”

“You looked like you were about to faint.” I replied bluntly. “Just, trust me, I’m a physician.”

I placed the cup closer to her lips. She sighed, opening her lips so that I could place the cup between her lips, tipping it enough that she could get a sip of water. I gave the cup to her, taking the rag off her forehead.

“Drink slowly.” I said, rewetting the cloth.

“Yes, yes, alright.” She muttered, taking another sip of the water. She followed my hand with her eyes as I placed the rag on her forehead again. “...Why are you doing this for me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I raised an eyebrow, continuing to pat her forehead with the rag. “You were in trouble, so I helped you.”

She smirked. “Thank you.” She paused. “I never got your name.”

“I’m Merlin.”

“Merlin? Interesting name. Reminds me of a fairytale.” She replied. “I’m Aryana, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Aryana.” I paused, taking the rag off her forehead, and placing the back of my hand on her forehead to feel her temperature. “Right. Well, you’re not sweating as much, so, that’s good. Finish off the water in that cup, and get some more if you need to.”

“Thank you, Merlin.” I smiled in response. She sighed. “Right, what do you want?”

“Sorry?”

“In exchange, what do you want?”

“Honestly?” Aryana nodded. I glanced down at her ridiculously thick clothing. “You live in India, so I think it would be good for you to get more appropriate clothing. Something thinner would be good.”

Aryana smirked. “I guess I shall ask my father. He’s the reason I have to wear this godforsaken clothing in the first place.”

“...Um, if you don’t mind me asking, what did you need at the stall?”

“Oh, um, just some chicken and curry. I was planning on making that, until I realised I was short some supplies.”

“Well then, I have one more request, then.”

“Go on.”

“Stay here. I’ll grab the chicken and curry, and you can have dinner with me.”

Aryana smirked. “Just dinner?”

“Uh, yeah. Just dinner.” I replied, an eyebrow raised.

“Then yes, I will accept your invitation.” Aryana said, taking another sip of the water.

I grinned.

“Great. Wonderful. I’ll be back in a few.”

From that moment on, Aryana and I began to fall in love. At first, we weren’t able to see each other very often, perhaps once or twice a month, but when we did, it was wonderful. We never did much. We mostly just had dinner and talked for hours on end, Aryana hesitantly deciding to leave once the sky, which could be seen from a window in the kitchen, had become dark. Goodbyes were always the hardest thing for us, always drawn out for around five minutes before Aryana would give me a final hug.

The third time we met was when we first kissed. Aryana had finished her meal, fork swirling in a bit of sauce that remained on her plate, eyes alternating between looking at me and her plate. I was still picking at a bit of lamb that was on my plate, wishing that Aryana would say something, since the silence was uncomfortable, holding some sort of tension that I failed to understand at the time. Suddenly, Aryana leaned across the table, grabbing my collar and pulling me across the table to meet her lips. As far as first kisses go, I’m sure it would be viewed as relatively underwhelming, but for me, it was one of the most magical moments in my life.

I met her father three years later. He had found out about the relationship Aryana had with me, and decided that it was about time for him and I to become acquainted. He invited me over for dinner, and while it did start out awkward, it wasn’t too bad, especially since Aryana sat next to me. There were certain moments, such as when he talked about the inferiority of the local Indians, or how clothing here was ‘too revealing’, that he seemed somewhat reminiscent of Uther. However, it wasn’t such an overwhelming connection that I couldn’t be in his presence.

I had gotten Aryana’s father’s permission beforehand, of course, but, on the fourth anniversary of us meeting, I proposed to Aryana. She fell to her knees in front of me, grabbing my face and pecking my lips, practically yelling out a _‘Yes!’_. The preparations for the wedding were a long and arduous process, especially since Aryana’s father, Christopher, insisted that our wedding be in a Catholic church back in England. To this day, I am unsure if it was the stress induced by the preparations of the wedding, or some other cause, but Aryana fell ill. It was a debilitating illness, leaving Aryana bedridden. No doctor could understand what it was, and none of my magic had any impact on making her better. Christopher insisted that there was an Indian that was casting ‘some sort of pagan curse’ on Aryana, and there were many occasions that I almost yelled at him.

A few months ago, Aryana died. I remained at her bedside until her last breath.

“Merlin,” Aryana coughed, looking up towards me, her face much more sunken, lacking the glow it once had.

“Yes?”

“Can you promise me something?”

“Of course.” I responded, pushing back the tears that were welling up in my eyes.

“Do not mourn me for too long,” Aryana croaked. “I don’t want to be the source of your pain for the rest of your life. Find some other girl that looks nothing like me. I’m sure you can find someone, I’ve seen the girls who give you a passing glance, or smile at you when we’re at the marketplace.”

I flashed a sad smile. “I’m not sure I can guarantee that completely.”

“Well, try.” Aryana’s voice came out smaller that time, and she ended up coughing again. She waved two fingers, asking me to come closer. I leaned further over the bed. “I love you.”

I nodded, feeling a tear trail down one cheek. “I love you too.”

Aryana smiled, leaning further back into the pillow before closing her eyes. I watched her inhale and exhale her last breath, and saw as her body relaxed further into the bed. I wiped away the tears that began to trail down my face, shaking my head. Hesitantly, I pressed a kiss to her forehead, caressing her cheek with one hand before hesitantly walking out of the hospital room she was staying in.

Since losing her, I’ve come to one revelation: I cannot have anyone by my side until you return. I can have no friends, companions, anyone else to have beside me as I wait for your return. All because of one thing: mortality. People will die, or have no desire to be by my side. So, I shall remain alone, and I shall make as few friends as possible until I can join you once more.

I’m not entirely sure where I’ll go from here. I have nowhere in mind, really. I just want to leave here, both because of the memories that I have here, and because I fear that the locals are ready to revolt against the British, and I would prefer not to be caught in the crossfire. Anyways, until we meet again, I remain

 

Your faithful servant,

Merlin

 

\---

Dear Arthur,

I thought I had passed you in the street today. It was raining, and a few people walked with large, black umbrellas. Women pulled up their skirts just enough that they wouldn’t get wet in the puddles that had begun to form on the streets. There were a few automobiles out, going just fast enough to splash some of the rainwater onto the pavement. Suddenly, I saw a man with the same blonde hair as yours on the opposite side of the street. I paused, double-taking at the blonde hair. I yelled your name out, and when the man turned his head, an eyebrow raised, I frowned. He looked nothing like you. I sighed, shaking my head, and mumbling an apology he likely wouldn’t have heard.

I can’t help but feel like I’m going mad. This isn’t the first time I swear I’ve passed you in the street, it happens at least once every decade or so, and every time it ends up being someone who just shares your name, or has a feature that reminds me of you. Sometimes, I can’t help but think that I will never actually see you. I will continue to wait, though, for the faint hope that we can meet again is all that seems to motivate me after living so long.

I don’t even know why I wrote this letter. You probably don’t want to hear me going on about how I swear that I’m going mad, or how the longer I am alive without you, the more missing you seems to eat at my entire being. I guess it’s a good thing that you’ll probably never actually read these letters then, huh? I’m sure you would not know how to react to me laying out my emotions so openly before you. Well, anyways, until we meet again, I will always remain

 

Your faithful servant,

Merlin

 

\---

Dear Arthur,

It’s September 2, 2006. I’ve grown tired of travelling, so I have come back to England. I have seen many things, and I’m glad that I didn’t just bide my time in Camelot. If I had done that, I likely would have gone even more mad than I already have. While it shouldn’t be surprising, it fascinates me how much time has changed the area I once lived in. Life is much more fast-paced now, and especially if you’re on the London Underground (called the Tube by most), even pausing for a few seconds to grab your card can be viewed as an inconvenience to others.

It saddens me, though, because it feels like any trace of the Old Religion has been obliterated. I can still use magic, but my search for Druids, fellow sorcerers, or other creatures of the Old Religion has been fruitless. I fear that I am the last of my kind.

I have found a small second-hand bookshop in London, that is actually in close proximity to the Lake where you are buried. It is much quieter in there, more reminiscent of the relaxing times that one cannot find nowadays. For a while, I simply visited the place, however, as of about six months ago, Gaius, the owner of the bookshop asked if I would like to work there, and of course, I said yes. He is now considering retirement, and has said that he will likely give the shop to me. I tried to see if Gaius recognised me, and while when he first met, he did stare at me as if he had seen a ghost, mumbling something about how I looked familiar. In the end, though, even giving him my name didn’t spark any amount of recognition from him. Part of me hopes that I will see Gaius again, yet another part of me thinks that I was not meant to meet him for any longer than just our time at the bookshop.

Recently, about a few hours before the shop was supposed to open, I walked back to the fantasy section. There, I found an old, leather-bound copy of _King Arthur and His Knights_. I couldn’t help but smile, and read through it once more, mentally correcting the inaccuracies the author had written, for this was not the version that I had helped write years ago, when I was missing you.

I still miss you, by the way. I try to pass by the Lake every single day, staying perhaps for an hour or two, sitting at the water’s edge, waiting to see if you will rise up to the surface. The Lake is visited by more people than it was previously. Lots of people swim in the clear water, or bask in the sun along the lake’s edge. I can still feel the magic in the air, but it is not as strong as it once was. Until we meet again, I remain

 

Your faithful servant,

Merlin

 

\---

**6 years later**

 Merlin passed by the Lake on his way from the bookshop, approaching the water’s edge. There were more people at the Lake than normal, many of them children of varying ages splashing around in the clear water. Merlin set a faded leather messenger bag beside him on the edge of the Lake, about to sit down, when he heard a familiar laugh float through the air.

Merlin shook his head, turning in the direction of the laughter, eyes widening. For a second, he swore that he saw Arthur wearing the armour and chainmaille he normally wore, bright red cape rustling in the soft breeze, a faint beam of light surrounding his head. He shook his head again, blinking to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. When he opened his eyes again, Arthur hadn’t disappeared. Granted he looked much different, his armour and cape replaced with a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and a red, unzipped hoodie, but it was still him. The same blonde hair, the same wide smile that Merlin occasionally saw.

Hesitantly, Merlin picked up his messenger bag, walking closer to where Arthur stood, surrounded by...by Leon, Percival, and Gwaine. Merlin shook his head, holding back the tears that threatened to spill down his face.

“A-Arthur!”


End file.
